


Readjust, Combust from Dawn to Dusk

by EmptyWithoutMe



Category: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn that grew Feelings, They're All Mates Here Pal, Trans Character, Trans Male Jiang Cheng, Trans Male Lan Wangji, Trans Omega Wei Wuxian, discussion of (presumed) infertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmptyWithoutMe/pseuds/EmptyWithoutMe
Summary: Wen Ning goes into heat without warning his mates. Jiang Cheng is panicked, and worried, and really wishes he knew what to do.
Relationships: (they're all together but the fic is from jiang cheng's pov), Jiang Cheng/Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng/Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng/Wen Ning, Jiang Cheng/Wen Ning/Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn/Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín
Comments: 15
Kudos: 101





	Readjust, Combust from Dawn to Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Trust" by Follow for Now. Cheers to the discord for the discussion that inspired this <3

Jiang Cheng doesn't prefer it when they stay at the Cloud Recesses.  
  
A large part of it is the standard fear of leaving Lotus Pier in other hands. Jiang Cheng rebuilt his home from the river up, and he sees no reason to shake the single minded devotion to which he approaches his responsibility as Sect Leader. He's been accused by some of the older members, the ones who remember him when he was a drooling infant too clearly to really be scared of him, of sticking his nose in to details that aren't his business. Jiang Cheng disagrees: if it's Jiang, it's all his business.  
  
The other reason is an offshoot of the first, but more targeted. Here, Jiang Cheng is Jiang-zongzhu _second_ , and while they still call him Sandu Shengshou out of their endless, stifling politeness, that's not who they see him as. Here, his most important identifying mark is the mating bite on his neck, outlined carefully every morning in shimmering silver paint to show that he belongs to their Second Master of Lan. It's infuriating; it's reductive. The burn in Jiang Cheng's stomach is anger and shame and a pleased rumble he doesn't like to acknowledge.

(It's proof that he's wanted. That he's wanted _for keeping_.)

In any case, there are many reasons why the Cloud Recesses is an inferior destination, and Jiang Cheng grumbles about the lesser onces incessantly so he doesn't go out of his mind about the big ones. Like the fact that it's on a mountain: it means that after the morning training exercises, Jiang Cheng has to trudge up what's practically a sheer cliff face just to change out of his sweaty clothes. If Jiang Cheng went easier on himself during training, of course, he might be able to fly up on Sandu. But Jiang Cheng has never been easy on himself in his life, and he's not going to start a bad habit for the sake of the _Gusu Lans._  
  
He's muttering as much to himself as he forces his aching legs up the porch of the Jingshi, thighs twinging and a cramp threatening the back of his calf. The tirade consumes enough of his attention that it takes him a while to piece together the scene that's happening inside. Then he takes his first breath in through his nose-- he had been panting for air, during the last part of the climb-- and it slots into place.  
  
Fuck. Somebody's in heat. And if it's not him, and it doesn't smell like Wei Ying, then it must be….  
  
Jiang Cheng stumbles over to the bed and sinks to his knees on the mattress, budding muscle spasm forgotten. He lays a hand on Wen Ning's forehead to check his temperature. Not good. Wen Ning runs "chilled" on good days and "icy" is not uncommon, but he's almost warm. Jiang Cheng's fingers seize. He resists the urge to clench them in Wen Ning's hair, something fucked up in his brain associating the action with protection, and swallows.  
  
"When did this happen? Why didn't we know it was coming?"  
  
"I don't _know,_ " Wei Ying wails. He's wrapped around Wen Ning like a mass of vines, seeming to have sprouted several more limbs in the time since Jiang Cheng left him this morning. "I woke up and he was crying, and I don't have the nose that you or Lan Zhan do, so I had to make him tell me what was wrong, and by the time I got it out of him he was already like this! He won't let me get up to get anyone or send a talisman or _anything."_ His hands are shaking as he passes them over Wen Ning's body, rubbing circles, gliding the insides of his wrists everywhere he can to get Wen Ning covered in the comforting scent of trusted omega. "I don't think he knew he was this close. The reactions are slower, and he doesn't have all of them, and I think-- have you ever seen him actually in heat before?"  
  
Jiang Cheng forces himself to think past the rising tide of _touchprotectsoothe_ and pauses. He hasn't.  
  
Wei Ying is already nodding. The motion pushes Wen Ning's face away from his neck, and Wen Ning makes a punched-out noise that has Jiang Cheng's heart squeezing painfully. "I think he usually runs away to hide them. Oh, shit, what if I hadn't stayed? He'd be all alone in the woods here, with no one around to help him, and the mud and the sticks and _nobody_ \--"  
  
"Shut up," Jiang Cheng says, before Wei Ying can work himself, and Wen Ning with him, into even more of a frenzy. He wants badly to pinch the bridge of his nose. Instead he allows himself a single stroke through Wen Ning's sleep-tangled hair. Wen Ning butts up into his hand; Jiang Cheng isn't sure how much of it is his reaction to _Jiang Cheng, mate_ , and how much is the heat telling him _touch, yes, more_ . An unwanted spike of jealousy hollows out the bottom of his chest.  
  
Wen Ning is not a small person, but right now he looks it, curled up in Wei Ying's arms, his eyes flinching behind his closed eyelids, tears streaking his face. When Jiang Cheng gets up he moans, in the ragged way that means pain and not good things, and clutches his belly. His teeth are gritted as fresh tears rush past them. The lump in the back of Jiang Cheng's throat is suffocating. 

"I'm going to get _him_ ," he grates, and tears himself back out the door.  
  


  
  
  


Lan Wangji is lecturing a class of older disciples when Jiang Cheng swoops in upon him, _on_ Sandu, because if he passes out it's worth it if it means Lan Wangji gets to Wen Ning quicker. "What the fuck," he shouts, slipping from the blade and stalking forward, "are you doing here like nothing is wrong? You piece-of-shit asshole. Get back to your _mate_ ."  
  
Lan Zhan blinks as Zidian crackles through the air beside him, so close Jiang Cheng can feel the electricity catch his robes. "You are dismissed," he says. To the disciples, Jiang Cheng notices, a beat too late not to whip forth with Zidian again. It does catch Lan Zhan this time, his arm, but Lan Zhan doesn't flinch (it's because he's a bastard). There's a shuffle of suppressed murmurs, and bowing. Jiang Cheng waits impatiently, tapping his foot with increasing speed, as they file out the door. Lan Jingyi gives him a curious look and opens his mouth, but he's tugged outside by Lan Sizhui before he can ask any questions.  
  
With infuriating calmness, Lan Zhan sets the scroll he'd been reading from down on the table in front of him. "Explain why you are here."  
  
The force with which Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth makes them squeak. "Wen Ning," he spits, "Is in heat. You know. Your mate. Our mate. Whatever. The one you're supposed to take care of, especially in times like this."  
  
Lan Zhan's hands freeze where they have been tying up the scroll's ribbon. In the momentary wideness of his eyes Jiang Cheng sees that he had no more forewarning of this than the rest of them, and that tiny gasp of relief lets Jiang Cheng retract Zidian and take a step back so he isn't looming quite so dramatically in the doorway.  
  
Then Lan Zhan is standing, and sweeping past him without a word so he can climb onto Bichen. Jiang Cheng can't even feel slighted about it, because he agrees.

There are further complications once they reach the Jingshi. Every single god that ever existed hates Jiang Cheng, specifically, and takes it out on those he cares for. He has no sooner dismounted, hurrying after a grim-faced Lan Zhan, than he hears the bone-shaking roar of Wen Ning's battle cry. It is a sound that means: _danger._ It is a sound that means: _stay the fuck away from me._  
  
Skull reverberating with the sound (he is definitely going to have a migraine after this), Jiang Cheng shoves past Lan Zhan's trailing sleeves to see what's the matter. Lan Zhan has gone completely still. Not even the ends of his forehead ribbon flutter. Wei Ying is sitting up in the bed, Wen Ning in his lap, looking every bit as panicked as Jiang Cheng feels.  
  
"Just-- stay there," Wei Ying says, as Lan Zhan makes an aborted jerk forward and Wen Ning screams again. Inside the room, it's louder. Jiang Cheng's ears whine in the aftermath. "Let-- let me figure out what's wrong, why he doesn't want you here right now. I know he doesn't mean it, Lan Zhan, you know that too, right?"  
  
Lan Zhan's nod is so stiff Jiang Cheng wonders that his neck doesn't crack.  
  
Giving into instinct, Jiang Cheng crosses the room and flops down on the bed facing Wen Ning's back, tugging gently until Wen Ning is pressed against him, Wei Ying sliding down to bracket Wen Ning's other side. The sheets are twisted. Jiang Cheng spends a fruitless minute trying to settle them and gives up when he grabs a particularly sweat-soaked knot and sneezes. "Wei Ying!"  
  
"Sorry," Wei Ying says. He _does_ sound contrite. The perfume he uses to smell like omega is splashed all over the bed, the scent so thick that Jiang Cheng can taste it. It's not an _un_ pleasant scent, but unmixed with the natural chemicals of Wei Ying's body it's entirely generic. Jiang Cheng doesn't want _any_ random omega in his mate's bed. "It seemed to calm him down."  
  
Wen Ning has started to roll his hips against the thigh Jiang Cheng has tucked between his legs. The utter misery on his face means that it's not doing much for Jiang Cheng besides making him want to punch whatever common ancestor invented hormones. "So you decided to drown us all in it, great, thanks."  
  
Wei Ying ignores him, the dick, and ducks to press his lips to Wen Ning's hair, murmuring praise. Jiang Cheng adjusts his arm so he can wrap it around them both, and feels a shiver of tension leave Wei Ying's spine at the touch. It's not all of the overpulled bowstrings back there, but it's a start.  
  
"I will send for a bath," Lan Zhan says.  
  
"Yeah, okay," Jiang Cheng calls back. Lan Zhan sounds very far away; Jiang Cheng is consumed with the omega in front of him, trembling against his chest and biting little sobs into his own lip. He presses his nose behind Wen Ning's ear and nuzzles there, roiling inside with the need to make him know that he's safe, he's loved. Wen Ning smells like sweet things, and a little bit like pine. A good smell. Jiang Cheng kisses him there, the thin lukewarm skin, and holds him as tight as he can.  
  
  


  
With Lan Zhan standing motionless across the room and Wei Ying's endless stream of gentle chatter, they do manage to get Wen Ning to calm down enough to regain a measure of coherence. Wei Ying even coaxes him through a couple orgasms, one against Jiang Cheng's thigh and one with his hand. Wen Ning never really gets hard, in this body, or wet, but he does come, a thin black stream and a sudden slackness that always tricks a pleased rumble from Jiang Cheng's throat.  
  
The bath is a large wooden tub, filled with hot water and floral-scented oils. Lan Zhan fusses with folding the towels beside it as Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng lever Wen Ning out of bed. He skitters back as soon as they approach, and Jiang Cheng tries to communicate a mixture of _thank you_ and _sorry_ with only his eyebrows. He has only seen Lan Zhan this visibly upset twice before. Both times, Wei Ying was on the verge of dying.  
  
Jiang Cheng doesn't like to think about that.  
  
They ease Wen Ning into the water together, one arm each around his back and under his knees. He hisses at the warmth and grips the sides of the tub so tightly the wood starts to splinter. Jiang Cheng pries his hand away and lets Wen Ning grab on to him instead.  
  
"There you are, sweetheart," Wei Ying says. He picks up a beautifully enameled bowl and scoops it full of hot water, pouring it slowly over Wen Ning's head. It soaks through his hair, and Wen Ning's shoulders relax, his chin tilting down to his chest. "You really had us worried! But we've got you now, shhhh."  
  
Jiang Cheng doesn't want to ask, but. Wei Ying will avoid it until it festers. "Wen Ning," he says, as quietly as he can. It takes a lot of effort. "Why didn't you say anything? We could have--" planned for this. Helped you. At least known what was happening. The sting of a kept secret is a wound over Jiang Cheng's heart that is constantly re-opened.  
  
Wen Ning mumbles something behind the safety of his hair. Wei Ying brushes it back over his ears; seeing Wen Ning's eyelids flutter at the contact makes Jiang Cheng grateful to his toes that his shixong is here, that he's not doing this alone.  
  
"I can't have children," Wen Ning says, tiny and dull.  
  
Wei Ying pours another bowlful of water, separating the strands of Wen Ning's hair with his fingers to get it properly wet. "Wow! So forward so early, A-Ning! We haven't even had that conversation, yet."  
  
Wen Ning curls his shoulders, tense again. Jiang Cheng glares daggers at Wei Ying and rips a soft cloth from the pile of linens to start washing Wen Ning's chest. His sleeves are trailing in the water; he forgot to roll them up before this. Too late now. He's not about to take his hands away from Wen Ning until he absolutely has to.  
  
"No, I mean I _can't_ ," Wen Ning says. He sounds so tired; so resigned. "This body, it doesn't age. It doesn't change." He presses his forearm to his abdomen, absentmindedly. Jiang Cheng feels a sympathetic ache. Not every omega gets cramps, but it looks like Wen Ning, like Jiang Cheng, is one of the unlucky ones.  
  
He meets Wei Ying's gaze over Wen Ning's head with dawning understanding. It isn't about what Wen Ning, rational-thinking adult and part of their relationship, wants. Heat consumes even the least parental of omegas with the desire to procreate. It's why contraceptives are such an important part of every doctor's kit and medicine shelf. Wen Ning's hormones are telling him he exists right now to breed, to catch and nurture a child, but his mind knows that's not possible.  
  
It must be unbearable.

"Oh, A-Ning," Wei Ying breathes. He presses his cheek to the crown of Wen Ning's head, uncaring of the dampness there. "Lan-er-gege could never be disappointed in you."  
  
Jiang Cheng startles. He hadn't known that was the issue, but….Wen Ning collapses sideways into Wei Ying's shoulder, and yeah, that makes sense. Jiang Cheng looks over to Lan Wangji, still standing apart, a stone sentinel.

 _Go comfort him_ , Jiang Cheng's blood sings. But he cannot abandon Wen Ning. He has spent his life being pulled in two directions at once.

"Wen Ning," Lan Zhan says, low and wrecked. "Can I come closer?"  
  
Under Jiang Cheng's hands, Wen Ning goes tense.  
  
" _Please._ I will stop when you say so."  
  
At Wen Ning's hesitant nod, Lan Zhan starts walking towards them, his robes a whisper against the mats. He gets to the very lip of the tub before Wen Ning cowers backwards. Immediately he stops. Jiang Cheng cannot look at the expression on his face without his heart flopping out to pulse, naked, on the floor.  
  
Wei Ying's face says _say something, Lan Zhan._ Lan Zhan glances to Jiang Cheng for help, and Jiang Cheng has sympathy, he really does, but Wen Ning is not going to believe this unless it comes from Lan Zhan alone. He clears his throat.  
  
"Chose Wen Ning," Lan Zhan says, at last. "He is the one I want."  
  
The smile that breaks over Wei Ying's face has a hint of tears. Jiang Cheng leans behind the tub to punch him, trying to cover up the fact that he feels like crying as well, and gets to his feet to allow Lan Zhan to take his place on Wen Ning's right. There's not enough room for the three of them around it, if they all want to be touching Wen Ning. It only hurts a little.  
  
Stretching, Jiang Cheng lets the murmurs behind him fade to the edges of his consciousness, and sets about evaluating the materials. There's bread and some dried fruit in a box by the fire, but not enough to last for a heat, even if Wen Ning doesn't technically need to eat to regain his energy. Most of the tea is terrible Lan nonsense, but at the back there's a jar of ginger-lemon that will help soothe Wen Ning's nausea, when the heat recedes enough for him to feel anything other than frantic need. The current bedsheets are a wash (as in, they need it). Jiang Cheng knows there's another set in the wood chest, and begins wrestling the soiled ones off the mattress to shove in the basket of laundry.  
  
By the time Wen Ning has been convinced of Lan Zhan's love and pampered and dried, Jiang Cheng has a reasonable nest made of the blankets and worn clothing gathered from around the Jingshi. Wen Ning didn't even attempt to make a nest (Jiang Cheng prickles with the suspicion that it's because he doesn't think he deserves one, which is seven different kinds of fucked up), and Jiang Cheng isn't going to let Wei Ying have a go-- his nests are a complete disaster. They're lumpy, and messy, and full of things that Wei Ying got distracted by and couldn't bear to part with. Like half-finished _bomb talismans_ and leftover _chicken bones._  
  
A large portion of sharing Wei Ying's heats is Jiang Cheng poking through the blankets while he sleeps, trying to locate and dispose of anything dangerous or perishable before Wei Ying wakes up to take notice. At least he's branched off from _only_ foodstuffs. The first heat Wei Ying had, four months on omega hormones, he had gone missing for a week and they'd found him curled up in a rotting pile of everything he had pilfered from the kitchen. There were maggots. Jiang Cheng is-- no.  
  
(He'd been so pale, so weak. A-Jie had had to go all strong alpha voice on him to get him to uncurl and come back to them. And then he'd-- he'd done that thing where he'd tried to smile about it. Like it was a joke. Like Jiang Cheng wasn't half bald from ripping his hair out in worry.)  
  
With Wen Ning feeling better, the pheromones in the room have been rolling out more and more enticing. Jiang Cheng has been ignoring it, mostly, but when Wei Ying sees the nest and the first thing he does is beam at Jiang Cheng and say _good job, it looks perfect!_ Jiang Cheng has to shove a hand under his waistband and curl two fingers into his cunt so he doesn't do something embarrassing like squirt untouched all over the floor.

(He's done it before. Heat pheromones, rut pheromones...they're like a drug high, even if you're not the one producing them.)  
  
Lan Zhan's eyes are heavy on his wet hand as he wipes it on his shirt. Jiang Cheng knows this is about Wen Ning, and he's glad to give it to him, but oh, it feels good to be desired.  
  
Wen Ning is draped around both Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, nosing insistently at Lan Zhan's throat. It must be starting again. They didn't bother to dress him, which is probably wise. It's not like he'd be staying in those clothes for long.  
  
(Fuck. Okay. Wow.)  
  
(Here's the thing: the Ghost General is kind of stupidly attractive, to Jiang Cheng. It was a hell of a revelation to come to in the middle of a field of fresh corpses, guts trailing everywhere, but Jiang Cheng's life is just _like that._ )  
  
( _Fuck_ him. _Please._ )

The three of them boost Wen Ning into the nest, and manage not to lose their minds over the adorable happy noises Wen Ning makes as he gets himself situated. Wei Ying only has to rip off his pants and sleep shirt, but Lan Zhan has five layers to get through, and Jiang Cheng, if not as much, definitely more than Wei Ying. He uses the excuse to surreptitiously scrub at his armpits. He never did get to wash off after training.  
  
Lan Zhan, focused already on being the attentive alpha, pats Jiang Cheng's head as he swings himself into the nest. Jiang Cheng bats him away; they don't _do_ that, the two of them. Not until Jiang Cheng is a lot more post-coital.

Wei Ying, on the other hand, accepts Lan Zhan's hand in his hair gladly, preening even as he presses himself to Wen Ning's side. Every single day, Jiang Cheng is embarrassed for him. He hovers by the edge, awkward, as Lan Zhan lets Wen Ning pull him down on top.  
  
He's never done this with four.  
  
"Jiang Cheng," Wei Ying says. He makes a crude gesture. His grin is the _worst_. Jiang Cheng flushes, rolling his eyes, but he leans out to grab the jar of slick. This he can do. Okay. He can do...all of this. Maybe. Fuck, but he hopes he doesn't fuck this up.  
  
He passes the jar to Lan Zhan, because, as much as he'd like to get his fingers in Wen Ning's ass, Wen Ning is feeling understandably needy for Lan Zhan right now-- and lets Wei Ying grab him by the elbow and pull him up so they're sitting side by side, Wen Ning spread out across them both. Wei Ying kisses Jiang Cheng when he gets there, briefly.  
  
"Yeah?" he asks, tilting their foreheads together. It's a lot, especially naked, in their mate's nest while he burns with heat. Jiang Cheng wants to shove him away. He, desperately, wants to pull him closer.  
  
When Wei Ying and Lan Wangji asked Jiang Cheng to be a part of their relationship, Jiang Chang had thought they were joking. _I didn't know the great Hanguang-Jun had a sense of humor_ , he'd said, mean so nobody would check to see he was breaking. Two years later, and he still forgets, sometimes, that he's wanted. 

Adding Wen Ning was something they all agreed upon. Jiang Cheng doesn't regret it, _can't,_ when Wen Ning is so sweet and devoted and absolutely ruthless in a fight, but that doesn't mean that it has been easy.  
  
"Shut up," Jiang Cheng says, hoarse. He kisses Wei Ying's smirk away.  
  
Wen Ning arches in their arms: between his legs, Lan Zhan has added the first finger. Jiang Cheng reapplies himself to the task at hand.  
  
(Or, at _hands._ )  
  
As an alpha, Lan Zhan's come is, technically, viable (at least as far as they know, because they've never tested it, and it's not like the categories are as distinct as people and porn illustrations pretend). The upside to this is that the anatomical difficulties already have an established solution. The cock sits in the harness between Lan Zhan's thighs, lower than others that Jiang Cheng has seen; it allows the receptacle at the base to collect Lan Zhan's seed and, with the help of gravity and Wen Ning's body, transfer it down the wooden phallus and into his partner.  
  
(Jiang Cheng had heard maybe three words of Wei Ying's spirited explanation, the first time he saw it. He was too busy going dry at the mouth from watching Lan Wangji's long fingers wrap around the shaft and stroke himself, lazily, like he was just passing the time until Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng came to join him.)  
  
(Jiang Cheng has had a terrible life. Sometimes, he makes up for it by having really, _really_ good sex.)  
  
When Lan Zhan guides the head against Wen Ning's opening, holding himself above with only his arms, Wen Ning is writhing in Jiang Cheng's lap and sobbing. He's so _pretty_ when he cries: Jiang Cheng reaches gentle fingertips to catch the tears as they spill, sucking the wetness into his mouth for a taste. He feels stupid about it immediately after. Until he hears Wen Ning's pleased hum, and notices how blistering are the other gazes watching him.  
  
"Mn?" says Lan Zhan, and Wen Ning says " _Please_ ," and then Jiang Cheng can't decide whether to watch Wen Ning's mouth or the smooth, wet slide. Wen Ning twitches and spills as soon as Lan Zhan is inside him. His shaking knees come up to bracket Lan Zhan's hips, keeping him close.

"Fuck," says Wei Ying, awed. "You take him so _well_ , sweetheart."

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan grits out, warning. Wei Ying laughs, breathless, and flattens his palm low on Wen Ning's belly. The curve of Wen Ning's throat as he throws his head back is obscene. Jiang Cheng might pass out.  
  
After that, time becomes difficult to keep track of. It is _not_ an easy heat. Wen Ning was right about that. Sometimes the shame at not being able to bear pups rises up in him again, and he curls into a ball and snarls at any of them who try to touch him, even when it's clear the cramps are excruciating. Then Wei Ying falls into a spiral of blaming himself for the state of Wen Ning's body, and Jiang Cheng is fraying at both ends trying to keep them both from succumbing to deep depression. Often, Wen Ning can't form words, just insistent pleading noises, which is cute but also doesn't help the rest of them figure out what he's asking for when they've never shared his heat before. Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying get into a fight, as they always do: Jiang Cheng throws Wei Ying out of the nest, and Wei Ying seizes him by the back of the neck and drags him out after, and they snarl and scratch at each other on the floor like wild things until they're both stinging from more than wounded pride. When they try to climb back onto the bed, they find that Lan Zhan has flattened himself over Wen Ning's body, shielding him from the danger. Lan Zhan refuses to let either of them come into the nest for hours. When Wei Ying tries anyway, Lan Zhan _bites_ him.  
  
And Wen Ning _doesn't tire_. It doesn't matter how recently he's been filled, as soon as one of them pulls away he starts whining. Even Lan Zhan's famous stamina is no match for a man who literally doesn't need rest. Jiang Cheng starts organizing shifts after Lan Zhan falls asleep with Wen Ning still riding his cock, so exhausted he can't even form the proper Lan sleeping posture but sprawls out on the pillows as he is. 

(It's a good thing they've already been using tools to help with Wen Ning's awesome strength: ropes, chains, talismans. Wei Ying's frankly creepy ability to share feelings back and forth with him. What the _fuck_ is Jiang Cheng's life.)

The provisions that Jiang Cheng sent for arrive none too soon, and Jiang Cheng makes a point not to learn the faces of the disciples that brought them. He's too old and tired to deal with the awkwardness if he meets them again during their stay here. It's not his fault they are just in time to hear Wei Ying's scream of overstimulation when Wen Ning _just keeps sucking._  
  
It's Jiang Cheng who keeps them fed and watered, and the worst of the various fluids wiped off with towels. Wei Ying, of course, is useless, and Lan Zhan tries but Wen Ning needs him the most, so his attempts to help Jiang Cheng pour water and fry vegetables usually end with him rushing back to the bed to quell Wen Ning's desperate, wracking sobs.  
  
They don't thank him, which is fucking typical, and Jiang Cheng works himself into a snit about it as he spoons rice into Wei Ying's mouth and scrubs Lan Zhan's precious spotless skin so he doesn't freak out about being dirty and make Wen Ning think he's rejecting him.  
  
The next time his turn coincides with a lull in Wen Ning's fervor, Jiang Cheng's furious self-pity is coming off of him in waves. It's enough that even Wen Ning notices, through the heat haze. He brushes the knuckle of his thumb over the spot between Jiang Cheng's eyebrows and looks up at him from his back.  
  
"'M making it hard for you, 'm sorry," Wen Ning mumbles, looking heartbroken. Jiang Cheng wants to strangle him. Would it kill Wen Ning to _not_ run headfirst into the blame, for once? Probably. 

"It's not your fault," he growls. He's got three fingers buried in Wen Ning's ass, which won't be enough for long. Already Wen Ning has started rocking back onto them. "I'm used to someone else getting the credit anyway."  
  
Wen Ning frowns, a pout of a thing. He leans up, _away_ from Jiang Cheng's fingers, and kisses Jiang Cheng on the forehead. When Jiang Cheng freezes in shock Wen Ning peppers kisses over the rest of his face, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, the corners of his jaw.  
  
"Thank you, Jiang Cheng," Wen Ning says solemnly. Jiang Cheng jerks his head to the side, cheeks flaming, and jabs his fingers particularly hard to make Wen Ning stop _looking_ at him like that. Wen Ning's gasp turns into a groan. 

He's not sure how much Wen Ning says to the others, when Jiang Cheng is asleep, but when he wakes up Lan Zhan pins him against the side of the nest and kisses the air from his lungs, and later Wei Ying drops to his knees and makes Jiang Cheng scream his name, greatly delaying Jiang Cheng's quest to get more towels. He feels a little bit appeased, especially when after that any conscious members of the nest make a point to kiss his cheek or his mouth when he returns with fresh supplies.  
  
It's not all bad, however. Wen Ning is sweet and oh so greedy, and it fuels Jiang Cheng's need to be needed like a leaf unfurling for the sun. The air is heady with pheromones, and it makes Jiang Cheng so sensitive he comes again and again, clenching down on Lan Zhan's fingers or bucking into Wen Ning's mouth. Satisfaction at having them all here, all his mates bundled up in the same nest, spreads warm and liquid through his veins, has him close to purring as he kneads at Wen Ning's thighs, parted on either side of Lan Zhan's waist; as he drapes a sheet around Wei Ying's shoulders so he doesn't get a chill.  
  
Nobody will hurt them here. They are _his_ . They are _safe._

That is what he is thinking as he sinks the harnessed cock into Wen Ning, well cleaned ( _Jiang Cheng_ has no intention to get pregnant, now or ever) but still carrying so much of Lan Zhan's scent that it's already slippery where it meets Jiang Cheng's folds. Wei Ying is propping Wen Ning up, speaking endless filth into his ear as he guides Jiang Cheng in the rest of the way.  
  
There's a ridge on the inside of the cock that presses right against Jiang Cheng's own dick, and he swears he can feel it as Wen Ning clenches around him. "So sweet," Wei Ying cooes at both of them, tweaking Wen Ning's nipple. Jiang Cheng shudders, and Wen Ning keens high and plaintive. "Fuck him, Chengcheng, look how badly he wants it."  
  
Wen Ning is nodding frantically. His belly flexes as he works himself down to the base, fingernails digging into Jiang Cheng's shoulders. Jiang Cheng hisses (he likes pain, okay, it's a thing) and pulls out only enough to slam back in. Through the fog of his arousal he can hear himself panting. The base of his spine, the space between his hips, flare with sparks every time he drives forward. 

Fingers pry at his lips, Wen Ning's, thick and cool. Jiang Cheng licks up the side of them, down the crack between all the way to the webbing. He takes them down as far as they'll go and sucks. Saliva drips from the sides of his mouth, rolls down Wen Ning's hand to his wrist. Wen Ning bucks against him and cries out.  
  
"Fuck," Wei Ying says, eyes dark. He leans forward and taps Jiang Cheng's lips, feeling through them the bumps of Wen Ning's knuckles. Jiang Cheng pulls off, wet and messy, and snaps his teeth. Wei Ying snatches his hand back just in time and then laughs and comes back to slide his fingers slow and teasing up and down Wen Ning's.

"Let me in, didi," he says, all wickedness with no remorse. It makes Jiang Cheng _throb_ . Together Wen Ning and Wei Ying force apart his jaw from the inside, hooking fingertips, thrusting deep. Jiang Cheng gags and sputters. He is going to come, he is _so close--_ _  
_  
"Yes," Wen Ning sobs, and Jiang Cheng slams home and falls apart, his face screwing up so tightly in pleasure that it aches. The brush of the cock against him as he slides out makes him whimper, and then Wei Ying and Wen Ning's fingers, the ones they had _in his throat_ , are closing around the shaft and Jiang Cheng locks his teeth around a silent scream as his mind whites out and the ringing in his ears rises to a shriek.  
  
It must be Lan Zhan's turn after that. Jiang Cheng is too blissed-out to notice, his legs shaking as someone draws the harness off and away from them. He fumbles to throw an arm over Wen Ning, wherever he is, and rumbles happily when Wen Ning grabs it and holds it close. _Good. Mine. Safe._

  
  
  
  


Midday has come and gone, and the shadows outside the window lengthen. Jiang Cheng sits at the table and slices fruit, distributing it evenly between four bowls. He can't bring himself to leave Wen Ning out, and Lan Zhan will glower at him if he's not given the chance to feed his mate with his own hands. 

The heat is, finally, ebbing. The breaks between incoherence are longer, and for the last hour or so both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have been able to doze, Wei Ying buried in Wen Ning from behind and the three of them curled together on their sides. Jiang Cheng had meant to get some sleep for himself, but his stomach had grumbled and so he'd dragged himself up to refresh the food. 

He doesn't hate it, sitting like this, the afternoon sunlight striping across the apricots and pears as Jiang Cheng slides the tip of the knife under the surface tension of their skin, collecting juice in the palm of his hand. His fingers are sticky, when he finishes. Jiang Cheng pours water from a jug spelled to keep cool and splashes it also on his face and neck.  
  
There's movement behind him; the sound of feet on the floor. After days of fucking, Jiang Cheng can tell without looking that it's Lan Zhan, despite the way all their scents now mingle without easy borders. 

"There's mango," he says, for something to say. Lan Zhan might like that. It's imported, and rare. "Cherries are a little over, but not bruised." He pours a cup from the water jug and hands it up as Lan Zhan comes to stand beside him. The sound of Lan Zhan drinking fills their pocket of quiet, drawn up with a string like a present. Jiang Cheng hums and gets his knees under him so he can lean against Lan Zhan's thigh. One of Lan Zhan's hands settles on the top of Jiang Cheng's head, stroking softly.

He wants to ask, but he's ashamed. Jiang Cheng turns his head, hiding the question in the crease of Lan Zhan's hip; warm skin, well-known. "Is it good?"  
  
See, Jiang Cheng had never had someone to help him with his heats, growing up. Not even for the things like feeding him, or making sure he was wasn't too warm. A-Jie might have tried, but she wasn't allowed in the same compound, when Jiang Cheng was on his cycle, so Jiang Cheng got used to organizing everything himself.  
  
After the Sunshot campaign, there were so many alphas, all of a sudden, offering to share his heat with him (some leering, but some in what seemed like an earnest bid for courtship), inquiring after the state of his blankets, leaving bread and flowers and once, an alarmingly ridged glass dildo, outside of his chambers. Jiang Cheng had been so shocked and offended that he'd violently rejected each one. So he has no idea what most omegas need, in heat. Only what he's gathered from bawdy literature (most of it's wrong, to be clear), and what he knows he likes himself.

He could be doing everything all wrong, and nobody would have told him.  
  
Lan Zhan's hand is heavy as it cups the back of Jiang Cheng's skull. "Mn," he says. The note of approval in it is enough for Jiang Cheng to be content, but then he continues: "Jiang Cheng is good. To him. To all of us."

The instinctive, animal part of Jiang Cheng's brain flips over and shows its belly. He presses his cheek against the fine hairs on the inside of Lan Zhan's thigh and shivers.

From the bed, there's a grumble of waking. "Ah, A-Ning, again?" says Wei Ying's sleepy voice. "Okay, sweetheart, a _hh!_ "

Lan Zhan's fist tightens in Jiang Cheng's hair. A tingle streaks down Jiang Cheng's spine, making him bite his tongue to hold back a whine. He sits up higher on his knees and stares pleadingly at Lan Zhan's cunt.  
  
"Get me ready for him," Lan Zhan says. It doesn't sound like a question, but it is. If Jiang Cheng wants it to be.  
  
He doesn't want it to be. He shuffles forward, knees sliding on the floor, and covers Lan Zhan's dick with his tongue as in the background Wen Ning starts to beg.  
  


("Stay," Wen Ning mumbles later, drawing Jiang Cheng back into his arms. His heat is over, aside from the occasional aftershocks. The four of them are in a sweaty tangle of limbs at the bottom of the nest, too tired or, in Wen Ning's case, too satiated, to move.  
  
"We need to clean up," Jiang Cheng protests, weakly. They've all availed themselves of the bath at some point in the last few days, but that doesn't mean they can't stand to bathe again. Their activities haven't been the _tidy_ type.

Folded around Wen Ning's middle, Wei Ying sighs as Wen Ning props himself up on one elbow, his hair falling over his shoulder. It's sweaty and matted. It is the most beautiful thing Jiang Cheng has ever seen.  
  
"Stay," Wen Ning repeats. Lan Zhan, out cold on his back with his legs thrown across the rest of them, twitches as if he's adding his agreement. Wei Ying smacks his lips and shoves his face into Wen Ning's armpit. Wen Ning's eyes, in the light, are dark and deep and inviting.  
  
Summer nights are warm.  
  
"Don't complain to me if we all get stuck together," Jiang Cheng grouses, and lets himself be tugged back into the pile.)

**Author's Note:**

> Wei Ying is not, in fact, useless during this. He's being very reassuring and comforting. Jiang Cheng is just grumpy.


End file.
